Lean On Me
by Relala
Summary: Sometimes if you want to be strong, you have to be weak and lean on others.  Lily learns to lean on James.  •DARKLY VERSE•


**~ lean on me ~**  
>James PotterLily Evans .** T.** 1,656

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><p>"<em>"Lean on me when you're not strong,  And I'll be your friend,/ I'll help you carry on."_

_~ Lean On Me by Club _Nouveau__

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><p><em>I'm bored, <em>Lily thinks petulantly, tossing a desperate look at the clock.

History of Magic is her favourite class, but today she finds that the half hour is dragging on into an endless, dull forever. There is still twenty minutes left, and she put the finishing touches on her essay ages ago. She nibbles the end of her feather quill—a habit she developed while doing mental arithmetic as a kid which she hasn't been able to break despite all her effort—and glances up at James, who is sitting only a few desks away.

They're the only two students attending History of Magic classes at this level, and Lily likes it this way. Having no one else in the class means that her view of him isn't obscured by other bodies—she can make out the crease in his brow and trace the curve of his wrist all the way from over here—and that she is able to look at him without someone whispering behind their hand about it, analyzing her every movement and word.

Ever since Lily's parents died her life has become fit for public consumption, which is one of the strongest reasons she has for maintaining a safe distance from James Potter. He's always in the limelight, and Lily is tired of the stage.

Here, however, in the silence and calm of the classroom, she is free to study the mountain slope of his shoulder and the knife-edge of his cheeks without fear, and let herself feel without any inhibitions.

Without the rush of the world and the tittering of best friends in her ears, she lets herself admit just how gorgeous he is. On an old piece of parchment that she has been using for notes, Lily scrawls that out: **_G.o.r.g.e.o.u.s._** She gives the "g" a long tail, and does all the other letters in fancy cursive, bolding them while her stomach rolls in unfamiliar ways. It feels like she is being tickled from the inside, and she isn't sure if it's a pleasant sensation or not.

_James Potter. James Potter. James Potter, _she chants to herself.

Her insides feel warm when she says it, and she has never felt anything like this before in her life. She stares at him, studies the way his glasses perch on his nose as if she is trying to memorize just how the light shines off the lenses and reflects onto the world when they sit at that exact angle.

Then a small, snide voice in the back of her head whispers: _what would Severus think of you now?_ and the world comes crashing down around her. In utter horror, she slashes the word out.

Lily Evans isn't weak. She knows what it's like to fall off a broomstick and wind herself and then get back up without a commotion; when she fell off her two-wheel bicycle and transformed her knees into gaping scarlet screams, she sucked it up and limped home, unlike her sister who sat in the middle of the street and bawled. She doesn't tolerate weakness well. When the smooth lines of someone's face crumble in warning of oncoming tears, it is a struggle for Lily not to curl her lip in distain, an effort to say sympathetic, comforting things.

This, above anything else, is why she has continued to say "no" to James Potter.

It doesn't matter what Severus thinks, really, because that bridge is burnt, and she is actually becoming accustomed to his absence. What matters is the promise that Lily made him, the challenge she gave herself, that she would not fall in love with this boy.

It is hard to admit just how much it affects her to be alone with him because if she accepts how every inch of her skin begins to tingle and itch in protest of not being closer to his, Lily feels weak. Like she's giving in, losing a battle, even if it is a battle she so desperately wants to lose.

"James?" says Lily, interrupting her own inner monologue. "Do you need a little help over there?"

The words leave her mouth before Lily is aware of thinking, and she instantly regrets them for their implication.

James Potter isn't stupid. Immature? Oh yes, he can be, but not stupid.

In asking him if he needs help, however, she is going to make him feel that way. He isn't like gentle, soft-spoken Peter. He's not the type who likes it when someone offers him a hand up after a fall. James likes to be the one to sweep a person off their feet. He views himself as the rock of the group, the one that can take any beat down and get back up and dust himself off, unfazed.

When all the world goes to hell, James will be the one looking at the fires with a mischievous smile, certain that there is a solution, determined to save everyone, not considering himself.

James runs a hand through his hair, looking utterly frazzled. "Help? No, I think I've got this." He clutches tuffs of jet black hair in his hand, and continues reading from his textbook, lips moving over the words.

Lily isn't sure if his stubborn streak is endearing or completely frustrating. She likes a bit of pampering from a boy, but she doesn't want someone to be attached to her hip. A partner is what she needs, someone who she can get advice from and give advice to. She isn't looking for another alpha male like Severus, who always thought his opinion was worth more than hers even if he never said so.

Lily hops over to the desk next in front of his and kneels on the chair so that she is facing him. "Don't be ridiculous," she chides gently, spinning his paper around. She can read upside down, a talent she picked up while attempting to read the scribbles in Severus's notes, but this way is much easier. "Your paper is due next class anyway, and we only have History of Magic once a week."

"I'll do it—"

"When? After Qudditch practise? Before Sirius throws another hissy fit and you have to comfort him? Or maybe you plan to do it after the full moon?" She tilts her head to the side. "But no, that can't be it, because you'll be comforting Remus then and History is your first class of that morning."

James harrumphs. "I can handle my own school life, Red."

"Could have fooled me."

"Really? Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I _am _top of the class."

"That's Alice, actually." says Lily, a hard kernel of fury in her voice . "You're somewhere around fourth place, after Remus and I."

A flash of anger lights James's chocolate eyes, and he leans forward across the desk. "Don't bring Sirius into this, for one thing." His voice is low, a snakes hiss of warning. "And don't presume to think that I'm as preoccupied with my grades as you are. I, at least, seem to understand that there's more to life than schoolwork."

Lily slaps her hand down on his essay. "And just what is that supposed to mean, Potter?"

"All you ever do now is hide up in your dormitory and do homework." James accuses. "I thought we'd made progress! I thought we'd actually come to some sort of an understanding. But now all you do is avoid me, avoid the world just to live in your perfect little bubble."

Their dueling angers cleave the room in half.

"I've been trying to pull up my grades! Is there something wrong with that, Potter? Does having a goal offend you? Maybe if you _put effort into something besides Quidditch for once_ my being busy wouldn't bother you because you wouldn't have so much bloody free time on your hands."

"Free time?" James thunders. He lunges out of his seat and slams his hands on the table, upsetting his inkwell. It falls to the side and spills black mess all over his homework and his textbook, but the Marauder pays the mess no mind. "I have done nothing but run around this year, tailing you and Sirius because I can't be sure that either of you are sane from one day to the next."

Lily flushes, her usually pale cheeks attempting to match her hair. "And I'm more than grateful for your help!" It's harder to admit this than it should be; it comes out as an explosive, ragged shout and not the thankful statement she means for it to be. "But it wouldn't kill you to accept mine for once!"

Where did that come from? Barely half a year has passed since she and Severus severed their ties and went their separate ways; it was only this summer that she began to consider herself one of the Gryffindors. Yet here she is, worrying over James as if they've been friends for years.

They hold gazes, brown and green staring into each other for a long moment, before they both let out a collective sigh. Without warning, the tension begins to ebb and they deflate into their seats, all slumping shoulders and weary eyes.

James is the first to speak. "I'm sorry," he says, picking at a spot of drying ink with a fingernail. "It's just that I worry about you a lot. You only come to me when you're breaking, and then you ignore me right afterwards."

"I don't want you to think of me as weak."

"Me either." James reaches out across the divide and takes her hand in his own, rubbing smoothing circles along her palm with her thumb, and offers a shy smile. "But I guess sometimes you have to be weak to be strong."

_Weak_, Lily thinks, _to be strong._

She turns that around in her head like clothes in a wash cycle, and then leans forward and kisses James Potter.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Happy birthday to the lovely -EHWIES, author of the amazing "Through a Glass Darkly", which inspired this piece. You're a brilliant author and a terrific friend. I hope the lovefest on the RLt made your birthday worthwhile._

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><p><strong>first draft:<strong>_ 03.04.12._

**revisions: ** _03.05.12 **&** 6-26-12_


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